by Len Levinson
Three Japanese soldiers ran toward Butsko, who yanked his Nambu pistol out of his belt. He held the Nambu in his right hand and the samurai sword in his left. Raising the Nambu to eye level, he pulled the trigger, and one Japanese soldier tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground. Butsko moved the Nambu a few inches to the right and pulled the trigger again. The legs of the next Japanese soldier went wobbly and he dropped his rifle as he, too, fell to the ground.
The third Japanese soldier maintained his forward momentum and screamed "Banzai!” He pushed his rifle and bayonet forward, and Butsko dodged to the side, hacking downward with his samurai sword. The sharp, bloody blade cracked into the Japanese soldier's skull, splitting it in half. The blade continued downward, burrowing into the Japanese soldier's neck. The Japanese soldier slumped to the ground and Butsko looked around.
He expected to be charged by more Japanese soldiers, but none were close to him. Most of the fighting was taking place ten yards to his left. Butsko spat at the ground and ran toward the Japanese soldiers, firing his Nambu pistol. He shot one in the back and another in the side. Then he was on top of them, swinging his samurai sword.
His gory blade smacked one Japanese soldier on the shoulder and lopped off his entire arm. The soldier stared aghast at blood gushing out of the place where his arm had been, and then he passed out, falling back into the crowd of Japanese soldiers.
Butsko fired the Nambu pistol and a large red hole appeared suddenly next to the ear of a Japanese soldier, whose eyes closed as he pitched forward. Butsko fired the nambu again and shot a hole through the neck of a Japanese soldier. Swinging his samurai sword downward, he sliced a Japanese soldier's head in half diagonally. A Japanese bayonet ripped open Butsko's left biceps, and Butsko turned to see who'd done it. He saw a Japanese soldier swinging back with his rifle and bayonet, preparing to cut Butsko again, and Butsko raised the Nambu pistol and fired it at the Japanese soldier's face, which suddenly exploded, blood and brains splattering in all directions. Butsko swung sideways with the samurai sword, cracking a Japanese soldier's spine in half, and the Japanese soldier's body folded backward onto itself and fell to the ground.
Butsko stepped forward and swung the samurai sword diagonally, and its blade connecting at the juncture of a Japanese soldier's neck and body. The blade burst through the Japanese soldier's collarbone, cracked three ribs, and severed his aorta, causing blood to rush out as if from a geyser; it sprayed all over Butsko's face and hair.
Butsko was a fearsome sight, dripping with blood and gristle, as he waded into the crowd of Japanese soldiers. He shot and hacked a path through them and found Bannon and Terrible Tommy Shaw fighting back to back with rifles and bayonets, heaps of dead and wounded Japanese soldiers all around them. Bannon bled from a gash on his cheek, and Longtree's shirt was soaked with blood, although it was impossible to say whose blood it was.
Butsko swept forward like a fearsome apparition from hell, firing his Nambu pistol and slicing with his samurai sword. He shot a Japanese soldier in the back and swung his samurai sword at another Japanese soldier cutting off his head. It flew into the air like a basketball, bounced off the branch of a tree, and fell to earth a few feet from Nutsy Gafooley, who was fighting for his life with his rifle and bayonet against Captain Shimoyama himself.
They had been trying to kill each other ever since the first moments of the attack, when Captain Shimoyama somehow miraculously survived all the American submachine-gun fire. Captain Shimoyama had been a few feet from the hole where the Americans were fighting when the Americans charged out of their hole, and the American who'd charged toward the Japanese captain was none other than Nutsy Gafooley, the exhobo.
Ever since that moment they'd been in mortal combat, Captain Shimoyama becoming more frustrated and angry with every passing minute. Nutsy was smaller than Captain Shimoyama, and he looked like a little rat; yet, Captain Shimoyama had been unable to kill him, and now Captain Shimoyama's arms were growing weary from swinging his heavy samurai sword around.
He stopped and looked down at Nutsy Gafooley, and Nutsy Gafooley looked up at him defiantly. Captain Shimoyama wished he'd paid more attention to his teachers in his swordsmanship classes, but he'd thought he'd always be a staff officer and would never have to fight hand to hand in this manner.
It was annoying to be unable to kill a scrawny little soldier such as the one standing in front of him, holding an Arisaka rifle and bayonet, which looked ridiculously large for his diminutive proportions. Captain Shimoyama raised his sword and bit his lower lip, trying to pull together his remaining reserves of energy for a final victorious assault against Nutsy Gafooley.
At that moment Nutsy Gafooley lunged forward with his rifle and bayonet, taking Captain Shimoyama by surprise. Captain Shimoyama halted his swing in midair and darted out of the way; Nutsy's bayonet came so close, it tore Captain Shimoyama's shirt open.
Captain Shimoyama regained his balance and took a step backward for some sword-swinging room, and Nutsy lunged again, baring his teeth, aiming for Captain Shimoyama's gut. Captain Shimoyama swung his samurai sword to the side, striking Nutsy's rifle and deflecting its path. Then Captain Shimoyama raised his samurai sword and swung down at Nutsy, but the sword whistled through the air and nearly chopped off Captain Shimoyama's ankle, because Nutsy was not where he had been at the beginning of Captain Shimoyama's swing.
Nutsy had been in a many a hobo jungle fight with men bigger men than he, and he'd learned long ago that you could defeat a bigger man if you wore him down. He feinted toward Captain Shimoyama's stomach, and Captain Shimoyama raised his sword to protect himself. Nutsy lowered his bayonet a few inches and this time lunged for real toward Captain Shimoyama's groin. Captain Shimoyama had been raising his sword and now couldn't bring it down in time. All he could do was jump back, but he didn't jump quickly enough and Nutsy's bayonet cut Captain Shimoyama's upper right thigh.
Captain Shimoyama screamed, and Nutsy swung his rifle around, banging Captain Shimoyama in the face with his rifle butt; but Captain Shimoyama ducked under the blow, spun away, and turned to face Nutsy again.
Captain Shimoyama was getting sick and tired of fighting Nutsy Gafooley, but he couldn't just walk away as he wanted to, because he knew Nutsy would simply cut him down from behind. He'd been fighting Nutsy for nearly a half hour and was losing his will to fight, although he had to sustain it somehow if he wanted to live.
Captain Shimoyama circled to his left, and Nutsy turned on the balls of his feet, keeping his eyes fixed on Captain Shimoyama, looking for an opening or a sneaky blow, because he knew the Japs were famous for their sneaky shit.
But Captain Shimoyama wasn't a sneaky man. He thought of himself as an honorable noble member of the Japanese army's officer corps, although he had no noble blood whatever in his veins. He would win fair and square or he wouldn't win at all.
Captain Shimoyama looked for an opening in Nutsy's defense, but couldn't find one because Nutsy was so small and compact. Captain Shimoyama wished one of his soldiers would appear and kill Nutsy for him, but all of his soldiers were heavily engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Occasionally a shot rang out, or a man screamed, or somebody swore, but in general there was pushing and stabbing and tripping, and the ground was covered with dead and wounded soldiers, all of them Japanese.
Captain Shimoyama gazed wearily at Nutsy Gafooley. Captain Shimoyama's jaw hung open, because he was so tired he had to breathe through his mouth. His sword felt as though it were made of lead, and his left shoulder ached from his earlier wound, while his right leg hurt from his more recent one. This ratlike American soldier had drawn first blood.
"Your mother's pussy!” Nutsy Gafooley screamed, lunging forward with his rifle and bayonet.
Captain Shimoyama jumped to the left, and Nutsy's bayonet cut open the right side of Captain Shimoyama's stomach. It wasn't a deep or fatal wound, but it hurt fiercely and Captain Shimoyama bellowed in pain. His lifeblood poured down his side in a substantial quantity, an
d an inch-long section of his upper intestine bulged out of the hole.
Captain Shimoyama looked down at his new wound and realized he was in trouble. The wound would make him progressively weaker, and if he waited too long he'd no longer have the strength to fight his opponent. He had to make his move now or never.
Gritting his teeth, holding the hilt of his samurai sword with both hands, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, crouching low to make himself a small target, ready to jump out of the way of one of Nutsy's lunges. Slowly he lifted his samurai sword in the air.
Nutsy feinted, and Captain Shimoyama hopped to the side, swinging down his razor-sharp samurai sword. Nutsy raised his rifle and bayonet, and Captain Shimoyama's sword clashed against the iron trigger guard of the rifle, sending a spray of sparks into the air. Then Nutsy Gafooley brought up his knee in a quick, hard motion.
Captain Shimoyama didn't see Nutsy's knee, and in the next moment his balls were mashed like two small boiled potatoes into the upside-down bowl of his groin. The pain was so sudden and terrible that he screeched like a woman and nearly fainted.
Nutsy kneed him again, and Captain Shimoyama went blind with pain and rage. He and Nutsy were cheek to cheek, and Captain Shimoyama leaned forward, opened his mouth, and bit hard. He caught Nutsy's ear between his teeth and clamped down. Nutsy hollered and pulled back, and Captain Shimoyama's clenched teeth tore off half of Nutsy Gafooley's ear.
Both men separated. Captain Shimoyama was bent over, half of Nutsy Gafooley's ear in his mouth and blood soaking through his right pant leg. Captain Shimoyama held his samurai sword in his hands and pressed the heels of his hands against his shattered balls.
Blood dripped out of Nutsy Gafooley's ragged ear, down his cheek, and onto his shoulder as he raised his rifle for another pass. His ear hurt, but he knew Captain Shimoyama was in worse shape than he, and the time had come to finish him off. But where could he stick his bayonet with Captain Shimoyama hunched over, covering his soft spots? Nutsy would have liked to shoot Captain Shimoyama and get the whole mess over with easily, but his ammunition clip was empty.
He decided the best thing to do was feint with the bayonet and bash the tall Japanese officer in the head with his rifle butt. Nutsy stepped forward and lunged with his rifle and bayonet, and Captain Shimoyama tried to get out of the way, but his balls were bleeding inside his stomach and he'd lost his speed. Nutsy stopped the lunge at the last moment and swung his rifle butt around at Captain Shimoyama's head, and Captain Shimoyama ducked reflexively. The rifle butt whistled over Captain Shimoyama's head, and Nutsy's forward movement caused him to collide with the Japanese captain.
Captain Shimoyama lost his balance and fell on his ass, and Nutsy fell on top of him, his torn ear bleeding into Captain Shimoyama's left eye. Captain Shimoyama's body was racked with pain, and his hands were trapped between the press of his and Nutsy's bodies. Nutsy raised himself up and punched Captain Shimoyama in the cheek, jaw, nose, mouth, chin, and temples. The cumulative effect of the blows made Captain Shimoyama groggy, and something told him he was on his way out. He made a final, desperate lurch to get Nutsy Gafooley off him, and it worked. Nutsy lost his balance and toppled onto his side. Captain Shimoyama dived on him, but his aim was off and he missed. Nutsy spun around and jumped on Captain Shimoyama's back, reaching around with his right forearm and pulling it into the Japanese officer's throat, then catching the crook of his left arm in his right hand and placing his left hand behind Captain Shimoyama's head.
Nutsy clamped down hard, pressing Captain Shimoyama's head forward with his left hand while pulling back against Captain Shimoyama's throat with his right hand. It was a deadly hold that Nutsy had learned in basic training at Fort Ord, California, and it was very difficult to break out of. Captain Shimoyama dug his fingers into Nutsy Gafooley's arm, but to no avail. Nutsy's grip tightened. Captain Shimoyama's throat was like a garden hose that somebody was stepping on. He had difficulty breathing, and then he was convulsed by coughing. He tossed from side to side, trying to get rid of Nutsy, but Nutsy hung on and squeezed. Captain Shimoyama's head jutted forward at an impossible angle as his throat was compressed and flattened. His consciousness slipped away. He knew he was going to die, and he had to do something.
Captain Shimoyama lurched backward with all his strength, and he and Nutsy went flying through the air, but still Nutsy hung on. Nutsy landed on his back and Captain Shimoyama landed on top of him, knocking the wind out of him, and finally Nutsy loosened his grip. Captain Shimoyama elbowed Nutsy in the ribs and twisted hard, breaking out of the neck hold. Captain Shimoyama rolled over, dizzy with pain, his neck sprained, bleeding profusely from the cut in his side. He drew himself to his knees and stood, leaning toward one side and then the other, watching Nutsy Gafooley climb to his feet.
They stared at each other, exhausted and in pain. They'd been fighting for a half hour, and still it wasn't over. Captain Shimoyama searched around for a weapon, and his eyes fell on his sword. Groggily he stumbled toward it, but Nutsy crouched like a mountain cat and leaped on him, clasping his arms around Captain Shimoyama's legs, pressing his cheek against Captain Shimoyama's leg wound, and wrenching to the side.
They toppled over, landing on the body of a dead Japanese soldier. A rifle and bayonet lay a few feet from the Japanese soldier, and Captain Shimoyama reached for it, but it was too far away. Nutsy clasped his hands together into one big fist, raised it into the air, and hammered it down on top of Captain Shimoyama's head. Captain Shimoyama saw stars, and Nutsy hit him again.
Captain Shimoyama was nearly unconscious, but again he realized that he had to turn the fight around. He lay on his stomach and Nutsy straddled him, bashing him in the head again with his two clasped hands. Captain Shimoyama reached deep inside himself for that last ounce of energy and rolled to the side. Nutsy couldn't maintain his balance and rolled over. Captain Shimoyama rolled over again, to get away from Nutsy, and his hand fell on something big and hard. His fingers wrapped around it; It was a rock. Nutsy pounced on Captain Shimoyama just as the Japanese officer swung with the rock. Captain Shimoyama connected with Nutsy's head as Nutsy was coming in. Nutsy's head was snapped back by the blow, and he sagged to the jungle floor, out cold.
Captain Shimoyama couldn't believe his good fortune. He'd been losing and now it appeared as though he'd suddenly won! He walked on his knees toward the prostrate body of Nutsy Gafooley, the big rock still in his right hand. He stopped beside Nutsy and raised the rock in the air, to bash him in the head and bust it apart.
Nutsy opened his eyes and saw the rock streaking toward his eyes. He spun away in the nick of time, and the rock smashed into the muck of the jungle floor. He rolled onto a dead Japanese soldier's rifle and grabbed it. He jumped to his feet, holding the rifle and bayonet in both hands, and saw Captain Shimoyama rising, the big rock in his hands. Both men were bloody and bleary-eyed. Nearby a terrific battle was taking place, a crowd of men clashing and bashing each other relentlessly.
Captain Shimoyama saw that Nutsy had the rifle and bayonet, and knew he was in trouble. All he could do was wait for Nutsy to come closer and try to hit him with the rock.
Nutsy advanced, feinting with the tip of his bayonet. Captain Shimoyama raised the rock and cocked his arm for the throw, finally realizing that war was not jut a map with pins stuck into it, but men fighting to the death with anything they could lay their hands on.
Nutsy drew close enough to stab Captain Shimoyama, and Captain Shimoyama threw the rock. Nutsy was ready and held up his rifle. The rock bounced off the rifle's stock and fell to the ground.
“Now I gotcha,” Nutsy said.
He pushed the rifle and bayonet forward, and Captain Shimoyama tried to dodge out of the way, but he was weak and slow. The tip of the bayonet glanced off the front of one of his ribs and buried itself between that rib and the one underneath it. It was as if someone had squirted flaming gasoline into his lungs. He cried out and looked up toward the heavens. He saw his old grandfather—an
d a lot of other people, whom he assumed to be his ancestors—looking down at him, smiling. Captain Shimoyama smiled back, because he knew he'd done hs duty and fought as best he could. He was dying for his Emperor, the highest honor that could come to any Japanese soldier. He groaned and fell to the ground, the death rattle in his throat.
Nutsy pulled out the bayonet and stabbed it in again. The death rattle stopped. Captain Shimoyama was dead, but Nutsy didn't know that. He pulled out the bayonet and stuck him once more. Turning the rifle around, he smashed Captain Shimoyama in the face with the butt plate, mashing his lips and gums, knocking six teeth loose in their sockets.
Nutsy knew Captain Shimoyama was dead now. He looked down at the Japanese officer's bloody face, bloody chest, and bloody leg. The Japanese officer had been so fierce and mean when he'd jumped into the hole, but now he was a mess, his face disfigured and his uniform torn.
Nutsy's face was bleeding too. He looked around and saw men fighting in the moonlight. Nobody seemed to notice him, and that was okay as far as he was concerned. He looked down at the dead Japanese officer and felt victorious. This was the hardest fight he'd ever been in during his may months in the recon platoon, and he felt an odd primordial warrior's urge to have a trophy. In another time and place he might have taken his adversary's head, or his scalp, or his ear and then Nutsy remembered his own ear and touched it. Only a ragged chunk of flesh was left, and it still was bleeding. Nutsy wanted a tangible trophy that could be hung on his wall, although the only walls Nutsy had ever had were the walls of barracks, tents, the orphanage, or the boxcars that sped across the American landscape.
